Forgotten Language
by Nausicaa Smith
Summary: Rukia stresses over her lost powers early in the series. Inspired by a Shel Silverstein poem.


_Once I spoke the language of the flowers,  
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,  
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,  
And shared a conversation with the housefly in my bed.  
Once I heard and answered all the questions of the crickets,  
And joined the crying of each falling dying flake of snow,  
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .  
How did it go?  
How did it go?_

_--Shel Silverstein_

Today, Ichigo had given Rukia some human money and taught her how to use the vending machines at school. She had gotten a juice pack (the purple kind) and a bag of little orange and brown sweets filled with something called peanut butter, which was quite tasty in spite of the fact that it was nothing like butter at all. And that was all well and good, but Rukia was really getting fed up with the real world.

She had decided that it was probably the fact that she couldn't leave that was making her lose her fascination with it. Why, why, why hadn't her powers returned yet? It was all she could do these days to summon weak kidou against a Hollow while hiding behind Ichigo. And even after chanting the incantation just so, the spell always came down with such a light touch that the enemy brushed it off with a laugh. It angered her to know that only a month and a half ago she wouldn't have had to speak a word to call forth that magic, and inevitably the Hollow would have been slain by her own hand rather than by a cocky orange-haired wannabe.

Rukia tightened the drawstrings of her pajamas; she never could find clothes that fit right. _What I could have done a month ago won't help if I can't do it tomorrow, will it? _Personal circumstances aside, irritation aside, she had a job to do and she was going to do it, powers or no powers, goddammit. She pulled the blanket up to her chin, laid her phone on her collarbone, and tucked her hands behind her head. Luckily Ichigo had been cooperative and fallen into the routine pretty quickly. That Ichigo. He had forced Rukia to come to the conclusion that humans were grossly underestimated.

The most frustrating thing about giving him her power was that she could still taste the power, the magic, the hum of energy that flowed through her. It was always there. Like the lost lyrics of an old song or the forgotten steps of a dance she'd done in her childhood, it was just out of her grasp. Taunting her, infuriating her. Each time she reached out for it, stretching her slender fingers to the sky, it jumped away like a teasing little fairy. When her hands closed on the air where her sword should have been, she felt the loss as physical as if a real part of her had been cut away.

If she didn't regain some power soon and report in to Captain Ukitake, someone would be sent out after her. Exchanging power with another being, especially a human being, was a felony. Even if there hadn't been any other alternative, even if she'd have failed her mission, even if she and Ichigo and his family would have died if she hadn't done it. Rukia had broken the law, and if she didn't get back to Soul Society soon they would come here to find her, and find Ichigo, and she couldn't let him be punished for her sins.

**BUZZ BUZZ**

Rukia slammed the closet door open and fell out of the top shelf, landing in a most embarrassing way on the carpet below. She hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep, and the phone had given her a nasty shock when it went off. Gathering herself, she flipped it open (it had fallen with her) and checked the location: the park. Again. _What is up with that damned park?_ she wondered, but there was no time to speculate about it now.

"Ichigo!"

He was already leaping out of bed when she pulled her glove on. Kon was scrabbling around on the floor where he'd been thrown from the bed. Ichigo looked around, rubbing at his eyes. Rukia glanced at the clock at his bedside: 10:13. Had she been asleep for a whole hour? No matter. Ichigo turned to her in the darkness and spread his arms wide with a barely visible sleepy grin.

"Hit me, Shinigami." he said. She did.

Thirty seconds later they were racing toward the park. Rukia clung on piggyback-style in her pj's, her arms tight around his neck and heels digging into his sides. The dark aura engulfed them at the north edge of the park, where the playgrounds were. It was here.

Ichigo deposited Rukia on a bench to watch from afar as he ventured cautiously toward the presence. He wasn't much good at sensing reiatsu, but this one gave itself away. It appeared before him as he approached the "jungle gym" contraption (she'd asked and asked why it was called that, but nobody had an answer for her) and swiped at him with a giant talon that shone bright white in the glow of the street lamp. Ichigo leaped back just in time, and Rukia set about putting up a barrier between them.

"Disintegrate," she began as the creature kicked this time at Ichigo as he landed on top of a swing set. With a shout his sword sliced through the thing's leg. "Black dog of Rondaniini..." The sounds were familiar and comforting as her mouth rounded out each syllable with perfect clarity and authority. For a moment, she almost felt she could touch the reiatsu that she had lost.

Ichigo thrust his sword forward into the thing's shoulder, and it screamed in rage. Rukia's barrier formed around it as it reached out a claw to grab him, but as it touched the red light cast by her magic, there was a sound of breaking glass and the barrier shattered. It didn't stop the Hollow, but it gave Ichigo the split second opening he needed to slice upward―through its stomach, up its neck and straight out through the top of the mask. The Hollow disappeared in a flurry of green and white sparks.

Anger and humiliation pulsed through Rukia. She refused to be carried back, instead running at Ichigo's side and barely keeping up in her tired state. Just that little bit of useless kidou had weakened her so! Blood pressure rising, Rukia gritted her teeth and cursed under her breath. If anything, her powers were getting weaker! What an embarrassment to Seireitei and to the Kuchiki House she was!

"You okay?" Ichigo looked down at her over his shoulder.

"What? Of course I am."

"That magic thing was pretty cool. When I get better at this, can you teach me?"

"We'll see." Her face burned in shame. In this state, she couldn't even properly demonstrate it for him, much less guide his reiatsu with her own in order to form the appropriate shapes and consistencies of each art. She didn't deserve to be called a Shinigami.

When they got back, Ichigo climbed back into his body and Rukia climbed out on the roof. She lay on her back, clicking through the maps on her phone and occasionally glancing up into the night sky. The stars were pretty, and the air was cool and breezy enough to calm her nerves. Being pissed all the time wouldn't make her powers return any faster.

Lying there on the rooftop, staring into the night sky and muttering familiar incantations under her breath, Rukia didn't know--could not have known--what the upcoming months and years would bring. Nevertheless, she had the impression that she ought to enjoy a few quiet weeks while she had the chance. At the same time some heavy, ominous breeze blew through her soul, making her shiver and long for the training grounds and the harsh clatter of blade upon blade. Something was going to happen, and she needed to be strong.

Sufficiently cooled off, Rukia climbed down and sat on the window sill. Ichigo was already in bed, sleeping the sleep of the poor innocent human boy that he was. His involvement in this was a direct result of her failure. One day, she would regain her powers and would again stand between the souls of the town and the Hollows who threatened them. Like she was assigned to do, like she was meant to do. People like Ichigo shouldn't have to worry about such things.

But like a long forgotten language on the tip of her tongue, the strength she so desperately sought was still just out of reach. Rukia inhaled deeply, and breathed out everything she hated, everything she feared, everything she wished she could do and could not. The worry was gone, her body slackened against the window frame. With a last glance out into the inky black panorama above, Rukia turned inward and climbed back into the closet and into bed. They had school in the morning.


End file.
